


Dragon Juice

by boredrandom



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:10:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1947582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boredrandom/pseuds/boredrandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My Contribution to the 2014 July Ficathon: Andy falls asleep at her desk and confusion follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon Juice

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: I've taken some liberties with the set-up of the _Runway_ offices.  
>  A/N 2: This is only my second attempt at smut, be nice.  
> A/N 3: Thank you, my lovey betas: emeraldorchids, je4snly, and dastewa. You ladies rock!  
> A/N 4: There is a prompt at the end of the story.  
> A/N 5: Okay, I'm done now.

"Alright, people, I need you to stay together." Steve Irwin's voice snapped Andy's attention back to what was going on around her. His voice, and presence, was beyond strange in the halls of _Runway_ , but that wasn't the strangest part of what was going on. Andy was in a group of four other people being led by Irwin towards the door to the Outer Office. She didn't know any of the people in the group, and they were dressed as if they were on safari. She eyed them with annoyance. They were all too close, with her stuck in the center, and clackers were speeding to and fro, knocking the group into her.

Then, Irwin stopped in the middle of the doorway, turned to his tour group and said, "Now, you have to be very quiet. We are about to enter the mouth of the Dragon's Cove, which is the only path to her Inner Lair." Irwin's voice lowered to a commanding whisper that Andy knew Miranda could put to shame. "We must stay together." Then his voice returned to normal, although what came next was anything but. "Before we have a look at the creatures here, let's have a look at the galley."

He then ushered the group into the small kitchen area directly to the right. Andy tried to look past the rest of her group to the desk sitting to the right of the doorway. She had a desperate need to see who was sitting there, but Irwin blocked her view completely. "Keep up," he said and lightly pushed her into the kitchen.

Andy sighed. She sees this room six days a week, so instead of looking about, she watched everyone else as they looked around. There wasn't much to this room. Irwin had been right when he called it a galley. It was just big enough for the six of them. Irwin was standing in front of the door as if to stop anyone from leaving, while everyone else took up a spot next to the counter that lined one wall.

"This is where the Dragon's—"

Andy rolled her eyes and cut him off, "She's not a dragon." _She's a queen_ , Andy finished in her head.

Irwin looked at her like he wanted to pat her on the head and say something patronizing. Instead he just continued on as if she hadn't spoken. "This is where the Dragon's meals are prepared…"

Andy stopped listening. She couldn't change the way people viewed Miranda Priestly, just like they couldn't change how she herself viewed the woman.

_The woman is ridiculously sexy. And powerful. And she's an artistic genius. No wonder she's so easily annoyed and angered._ Andy smiled as she finished that thought.

_Sappy much?_ an inner voice, one that sounded amazingly like Lily, teased. _Admit it, Sachs, Nate was right. You love her._

_Yeah, yeah, yeah. So what if I do?_ She asked.

The Lily-voice replied, _Just want you to be aware._

She almost giggled to herself, but Irwin's voice stopped her. "The food, usually eggs or steak, is brought in from the outside and prepared here. It's placed on the fine china, held by these cupboards, and presented with the proper garnish."

Everything about Irwin was grating on Andy's nerves. All Andy wanted was for him, and these people surrounding her, to disappear. Instead she got to listen to quiet 'oohs' and 'ahhs' as one of the women peeked into the cupboard closest to her. Andy decided it was time to leave and inched her way towards the door, towards Irwin.

"Here," he pointed to the mini refrigerator, "is where you will find a stock of Pellegrino, kept at exactly thirteen degrees Celsius."

The next round of 'ahs' made Andy want to vomit. This was _Runway_ , for crying out loud, not the jungle. Just as she got close enough to attempt an escape, Irwin stepped in her path and spoke.

"Well, it seems some of us are eager to move on." He shot Andy a pointed glare. Again, she thought Miranda would put this man to shame and tear him to shreds. The thought she might get to witness it made her lips curl into a sinister smile.

Irwin blanched and cleared his throat, "Let us move on and remember." He shot her another look and her grin widened, "do try to stay together."

Andy almost stepped on the back of Irwin's shoes in her rush to leave the tiny kitchen. She could feel the other members of the group as they filed out behind her, invading her personal space and keeping her enclosed in the group.

Once they stopped, directly in front of the doorway of the Outer Office, Irwin started up again. "Here we have the Dragon's immediate protection. One must go through these hardened warriors before approaching the Dragon. These are their battle stations."

Andy rolled her eyes as Irwin pointed to the two desks in front of the group. The one off to the left was occupied by Emily. She was typing as if her life depended on it (and knowing Miranda, it might just), and she completely ignored their presence. At the desk to the right sat someone who looked exactly like Andy—she was even wearing the same clothes. She had the phone pressed between her face and shoulder while ferociously writing on a piece of yellow paper.

"And here we have the Second Assistant in her natural habitat. This one has escaped many dangers, amazingly enough, without being destroyed by the Dragon—despite the numerous opportunities presented."

"Hey—" Andy started, but Irwin kept going.

"This one is called Andrea, but she goes by many names: Andy, Six, and of course—"

"Andréa."

"Crikey, mates, that was the call of the Dragon." Irwin smiled at the grins popping up around him, some filled with quiet chatter. When he looked to Andy he saw she was walking away from the group. Her body had instinctually obeyed the soft spoken demand and she began to make her way across the path between the two desks leading to Miranda's office when the other Andy knocked her over in her own rush to answer Miranda's call.

Andy started to pull herself up off the floor and ignored the disappointment that accompanied the understanding that the call was not meant for her. "Somebody want to give me a hand?" Andy wondered out loud.

She was already on her feet, dusting off her borrowed clothes, before she realized she was now the only person in the room. Irwin was finally gone ( _Thank God_ , supplied the Lily-voice), as were the annoying people following him about. Even Emily had disappeared. Andy spun around and looked through the open door into Miranda's completely empty office. The other Andy, Miranda, even the desk, chairs, and blinds were gone.

"The fuck—" she started as she turned back around only to be cut off by yet another image of herself. This one was sitting at her desk, head resting on her folded arms, snoring lightly. She was sleeping and had begun mumbling something about a 'beautiful enigma,' 'smooth skin,' and 'silver hair.' Andy went to lean in, so she could hear better when her attention was pulled to the hall. The light sensor had been activated and now the hall was bright. The brightness was followed by the sound of heels hitting the floor. Only one person walked with that forceful cadence and if she found Andy sleeping at her desk—

"Fuck." She moved to her desk, eyes never leaving the doorway, and shook the other Andy's shoulder. The girl didn't budge. Andy groaned, the steps where getting closer. "Hey. Wake up!" She shook harder. Andy could see Miranda's shadow and she unsuccessfully fought the urge to freak. She grabbed a handful of the other Andy's hair and yanked.

Andy's head snapped up, her heart racing. She blinked, quickly rubbed the crust out of her eye, and started looking for the cause of her panic. The clacking she heard echoing from the hall changed and this rhythm did not belong to Miranda. It was too slow and almost weak, not to mention it sounded like men's dress shoes.

"Eric." That had to mean the Book was finally ready.

Without the immediate threat of Miranda catching her sleeping at her desk, Andy was able to breathe enough to realize she had been, in fact, sleeping at her desk. She was more than a bit surprised that her mind's manifestation of herself was so violent but it did the trick; she was awake now. The last time Andy got hurt in a dream and felt it when she woke up she was twelve, but there was a dull pain at the back of her head making itself known. It wasn't too bad, and she was grateful that at least she never felt pain in the dreams.

As she rubbed the back of her head, the pain quickly vanishing, she felt her toes dig into the plush carpet. She didn't remember taking off her shoes, but the five inch heels had caused enough damage. She couldn't imagine Eric would care she was barefoot. _Hell, he probably won't even notice._

Andy began to take in the office around her, ensuring herself that Miranda's and Irwin's presence was just a dream. The doorless closet, across from her to the left, held nothing but her belongings. She sighed a bit of relief. That was appropriate considering Miranda and Emily had left hours ago. Next, she took in the desk directly across from her. Emily was not there, the small lamp was off, and the computer wasn't humming. Lastly, she turned her eyes to Miranda's office door.

"What the..." The door was shut and there was light seeping from underneath it.

THWACK!

Andy almost gave herself whiplash trying to find the source of the noise. Eric was standing in front of her desk and he had slammed the Book down on the surface.

He completely ignored the face she was making and calmly stated, "So, the Book's done. I'm out of here."

As he started the second sentence Andy turned away from him and looked back at the closed door. "Hey, do you know if…" she turned back only to find he was gone. She huffed, "Well then." She wasn't honestly annoyed—he did say he was leaving and anyway, it's not as if he'd know if Miranda had returned. That was her job, knowing the Fashion Queen's whereabouts, and at this moment she believed Miranda was at home, waiting for the Book.

The Lily-voice asked, _So why was her office door shut?_

_Good question…_

Andy had been working as Miranda's assistant long enough to know the woman never shut the door. If it was something that required enough privacy to shut the door it didn't happen within the halls of _Runway_. Andy craned her neck and checked the closet again. Her coat and purse were still the only things to be seen.

Andy slowly rose from her desk and walked around it. Apparently, while she was resting her eyes (she was never going to fess up to sleeping) some insane individual had taken it upon themselves to enter Miranda's inner sanctum. And now she had to get rid of them. She was going to fix this, and she was going to fix it now. She stopped in front of her desk, and eyed her shoes. She had managed to not only take them off, but to also kick them out to the other side. She wasn't thinking about putting them on, she was thinking they could be handy as a weapon if whoever was in the office became violent. She stood for a moment, contemplating their five inch damage factor. She knew Nigel wouldn't agree and would pitch a fit if she got blood on the brand new Manolo Blahniks.

Going into Miranda's office when she was there, even after being summoned, was not always the best idea—and to do it without Miranda present? Miranda was very particular about who (and what) could be in her space and when. Andy had to be the only one who ever entered with something close to joy every time. Then again, the only time Andy ever entered Miranda's space when Miranda wasn't in it, was in the morning to place the coffee and newspapers in their proper place. Maybe this wasn't the best idea.

_Then just leave it be and take her the Book,_ the Lily-voice suggested.

Andy shook her head. _No. I need to know who's in there. Besides, the Book is like two hours late today, it's probably just the janitor._

She was going to open the door to Miranda's office and find Paul emptying the trashcan or wiping down the desk. She told herself there was no reason for her to tip-toe around her desk toward the door moving in complete silence. (But she did—ignoring a giggle from the Lily-voice, all the while feeling a strange, yet familiar calmness engulf her.)

Andy paused with her hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath. Before she had the chance to turn it, she heard the soft release of breath, slow and steady. She barely registered the sound but she knew immediately it was not the janitor. The sound filled her with a mix of anticipation, excitement, and fear.

As she cracked the door open, grateful for the modern sleek door that made no sound, she heard a sharp intake of breath. This time she recognized her body's reaction. She knew that voice and she could only think of one reason for Miranda to be making that sound. She felt the tingle that ran through her body and the slight increase in her heartbeat.

_Miranda came back to the office? And why would she walk past me without saying anything? Did she take her coat in there with her?_ Then Andy's rational mind was telling her, _Miranda didn't, she wouldn't, and no, that's what your desk is for._ But the rest of her was screaming _yes_ to all three. The Lily-voice had no comments.

She didn't open the door all the way—she just pushed it open wide enough to slip into the room. Once inside, her eyes fell on Miranda, who was sitting at her desk. At this point it wouldn't have mattered if Lily herself showed up in the office. Andy's thoughts were completely quieted as everything else in the room, in the world, seemed to disappear, leaving nothing but Miranda's face. Andy was focused on the way Miranda's head was leaning against the back of her chair, the way her eyes were closed, the movement of her nostrils, the almost nonexistent parting of her lips. This was all Andy could see—it was like nothing else existed, not even the desk Miranda was sitting at. She was so absorbed in the image in front of her, she didn't notice she had stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind her. She was, however, fully aware of her desire to touch.

Andy's breath became slow and deep as she took in the sight. When Miranda's body moved forward in a rather jerky movement, Andy's eyes started to roam. Their downward journey was stopped short, however, by the amount of skin Miranda's shirt displayed. When their journey started, only to pause, yet again, on the spot below Miranda's décolletage, her vision zoomed in, hypnotized by the covered breasts and the rise and fall that accompanied Miranda's breath. Everything else remained in a fuzzy world of who-gives-a-fuck and the strong mixture of confusion and arousal surging through Andy's body caused her to tremble. Then, Andy understood that her breathing had lined up with Miranda's, inhale for inhale, exhale for exhale, causing her to slip even more into the rhythmic movements of Miranda's breasts.

Andy was trying to contain the tremor moving throughout her body, willing herself to focus again on Miranda's face. She was trying to comprehend what she was seeing, but her eyes fought her mind and did as they pleased. Her eyes moved, slowly, out of the valley of cleavage and moved to the right, over the curves she wanted to see bare, before moving back down and over the breast on the left. Her eyes then made their way up Miranda's neck, pausing to take in the way each breath made the muscles move. Her eyes dipped briefly into the space where neck met jaw before they moved over Miranda's chin before stopping on pale pink lips. When those lips curled into a smile, a sexy, dangerous, yet somehow sincere smile, Andy's breath caught in her throat. Andy's eyes darted to Miranda's and found the dark gray-blue eyes already piercing her own.

"Andréa." It was more like a breath than a word. Andy bit her bottom lip to keep from saying something, to keep from ruining whatever this was about to be.

Miranda was pretty well known for her verbal trickery and her ability to set people up with vague instruction, however, Miranda's non-verbal communication was usually honest and direct. Andy had learned quite a bit in her time at _Runway_ , and understanding, even anticipating, Miranda's needs was becoming easier and easier for the young woman. Still, she hesitated. Knowing what she knew was not enough to give her the confidence needed to rush right in. So she slowly made her way to the right side of desk, partially waiting for Miranda to snap out of whatever daze she was in and dismiss her from the room. When Andy came to a stop she was less than an inch away from the glass surface, a surface she still hadn't bothered to look at. Blue eyes were still locked on brown and the movement had Andy noticing, for the first time, exactly how much moisture had gathered between her legs. Her muscles clinched in understanding, and she sent a prayer to whatever deity would hear it.

Miranda began to slowly slide her chair away from the glass desk and back against the wall behind her. The movement broke Andy's eye contact and she sucked in a large amount of air and wondered how in the hell she had managed to not see this sooner. Her breathing had sped up a little (still keeping pace with Miranda's) as she took in the whole picture in front of her. Andy felt her heart start to race. Her mouth went completely dry before she began to salivate, her nipples hardened, her fingers began to twitch, and the moisture between her legs began run down her thighs. She convulsively swallowed.

Miranda Priestly was still smiling at Andy. _Smiling like she knows what I want to do. Like she wants it done._ But there was more. There was Miranda's face and the fact that it was flushed. There were her eyes and the fact that the way she was looking at Andy was more intense than any morning-look-over could ever be. There was her skirt, bunched around her waist. There was the fact there was nothing separating Miranda's beautiful ass from the wet leather seat. Andy didn't search for them, but she was pretty sure Miranda's panties were nowhere to be found. Miranda's hips were rocking, and when Andy's eyes landed on the hand covering her center, Miranda's hips jerked again. Andy could see the liquid arousal on Miranda's skin and chair. Andy licked her lips before sucking a corner of the bottom one into her mouth.

She found Miranda's eyes again, question of permission loud and clear in her own. She had to make sure. She found her answer—and more—swimming in those blue eyes. And, as always, Andy wanted to please.

_Oh, and I can do this,_ Andy smirked.

The Lily-voice chimed in, again, _Of course you can. Isn't this what all that research was for?_

_So not the point. It's not like I ever thought I'd get the chance._ Andy froze at this point. Was this just another dream? Andy needed to pinch herself (waking in pain was one thing, but she had never felt pain in a dream), but there was no way for her do that without drawing attention to it. And since she didn't want anything to distract from what was happening, she bit her lip again, this time for pain, and smiled when Miranda zoomed in on the action. Her smile widened, accepting the sting that was now coursing through it. During this little experiment Miranda's smile never wavered, but the look her eyes intensified as she raised an eyebrow expectantly.

Andy moved until she was standing directly in front of Miranda, head slightly tilted, maintaining eye contact. When she stopped she placed a shaking hand on the arm of Miranda's chair and faked enough bravado to speak. Andy wondered if Miranda would say the words out loud, even as she understood the woman wouldn't.

"Is there something I can do for you Miranda?" The words were low and she cringed at them, _Of all the things I could have said—_

Miranda simply dipped her head toward her lap and waited. If Andy didn't already have enough pain swimming in her bottom lip, she would have bitten it again.

Andy watched Miranda spread her legs, making enough space, then she dropped to her knees and took a position she could have never conceived. She reached out slowly to touch Miranda, willing her body to believe that the rule no longer applied to her—how could it when Miranda invited her to this place? Keeping her eyes on Miranda, she ghosted a hand over the skin of each knee, making wide circles, looking for even the slightest hint of displeasure, disappointment, discouragement. She found none. Instead, she watched as Miranda's lips parted again as she took a deep breath. That was all Andy needed to shake the last bit of doubt from her mind.

She slid her hands up and down Miranda's thighs, learning each and every curve, dip, and movement of muscle. Miranda stopped moving, but she hadn't removed her hand, leaving herself covered. She leaned back into the chair, eyes still on Andy, a new smirk in place. That smirk caused something in Andy to break. She added pressure to her hands and pushed Miranda's legs farther apart, crawling even closer to the woman. Miranda simply raised an eyebrow, a flash in her eyes.

Andy showed a smirk of her own and broke eye contact with the woman, instead trailing her eyes over the skin her fingers had memorized before her mouth began to map out the same paths. She started at the knees and moved in a bit and then back out, slowly making her way towards Miranda's center. There was a small hum accompanying her actions as she made her way to Miranda's upper inner thighs. She heard the sighs and puffs of breath; they encouraged her to move slower, to lick more thoroughly. The closer she got, the more convinced she was her own panties were ruined, the more Miranda's hips moved against her hand, and the stronger the muted aroma of Miranda's desire became. Andy had never smelled anything like it before, and instantly she decided she wanted to smell it as often as possible.

When her lips arrived at Miranda's hand she ran her tongue over the back of each finger before pulling the index finger into her mouth. Then she met Miranda's eyes again. As her tongue acquainted itself with Miranda's finger, the woman's hum became more consistent. There was a taste to Miranda that Andy knew was not just skin. She smiled around the finger and ran her nails along Miranda's skin, causing the editor to momentarily stop breathing while spreading her legs just a bit more, until they were just a touch away from their limit. Andy took hold of Miranda's wrist before switching to the next finger, cleaning each one in turn before placing Miranda's hand on the armrest. Out of the corner of her eye, Andy noticed Miranda's hand gripping the leather—the knuckles were paler than the rest of her hand. Andy placed her other hand on top of Miranda's, rubbing slowly, and made her way as far up Miranda's arms as she could before coming back down to a rest on the back of her hands again.

Miranda would never beg. Hell, she didn't even ask—not properly, anyway. Instead, she just looked at Andy. The flashing of Miranda's eyes, the flicker of tongue across her bottom lip in conjunction with the movement of her hips … Andy knew, just knew, this was as close to begging as Miranda Priestly ever got.

Andy moved her lips back to the already moist skin of Miranda's thighs. When Miranda slid forward, giving Andy more access and herself less support, Andy slid the chair back until it would move no more. It was secure against the wall. Then she looked up again, pressing pain and awareness into her bottom lip, hating herself for double-checking, for asking again. Miranda nodded, her head moving more than Andy had ever seen and mouthed the word 'please.'

One of Andy's hands moved to Miranda's leg while the other crawled up Miranda's abdomen to take hold of one breast. Miranda's hand was immediately atop Andy's, holding it in place as she pushed it down onto her nipple. Andy looked away from the dark blue eyes above her and found her vision had once again tunneled, but this time it was upon Miranda's sex.

Her hand moved from Miranda's leg and ghosted over folds, softly touching every inch available to her. Miranda was shaking by the time Andy decided to take a taste. She used two fingers to spread Miranda open and leaned forward, when a very unwelcome voice rang in her head: _Crikey, folks, this really is our lucky day. We're about to witness the tasting of the Dragon's juice._

Before Andy could react to the voice, Miranda let out a small groan of need and impatience, and Andy forgot a man by the name of Irwin ever existed. Andy was lost in the taste, the smell, the feel of Miranda Priestly. Encouraged by sighs, moans, and staccato breathing, everything else in the world fell away and there was nothing but the taste in her mouth, the texture against her tongue and the nipple between her fingers. Soon, Andy became fascinated with Miranda's clit and the feel of Miranda's nails against her scalp. The slight pulling of her hair joined the other sensations crowding Andy's mind.

When Miranda let out a groan laced with need for true release, Andy slid two fingers inside of her, gently and completely. She almost rolled her eyes into her head trying to meet Miranda's gaze. Andy began to move, slowly and shallowly, watching for Miranda's encouragement. When she saw it, she slowly increased the movement, sliding deeper and deeper with each stroke. She was amazed at how it felt to be wrapped completely in this woman, to feel Miranda's body react to her movements. Andy smiled against Miranda's skin, keeping up her ministrations until Miranda reached that ultimate release. Andy's smile turned smug as she relished in her success. Miranda almost stopped breathing as her body tensed, before releasing a quiet, "Andréa!" Her body completely relaxed and she gave Andy a wry smile.

"Andréa…" this time Miranda's voice was sharp and annoyed.

Andy's head popped up and she was standing before she could blink. She had an indentation across her face from where it was resting on her arm, a small trail of drool running across half of her cheek, and when she met Miranda's eyes her whole face started to flush. Miranda simply tilted her head and watched the younger woman. Andy would bet her next three paychecks there was just a touch of amusement behind the annoyance-filled blue eyes.

Andy wiped the side of her mouth and suddenly she realized a number of things all at the same time. She was back at her desk. She was almost painfully aroused. She had shoes on. She turned towards the door of the outer office. Miranda was speaking, but before her words registered, Andy noticed the automatic lights in the hall were still off.

"...surely you have a home..." Miranda continued.

Andy took in Miranda's clothes, their smooth, somehow unwrinkled appearance, and her eyebrows furrowed. Her head swung towards Miranda's office door, it was open and the light was off. _How the—_

"…and a bed."

"Huh?" Andy shook her head as Miranda's eyes narrowed. "I mean, yes, of course I do," she stuttered as her brain finally caught up. She had no idea what was going on but she still had the taste of Miranda on her lips and the feel of her on her fingers. And in her confusion she broke yet another—that is, if the first times even happened—one of the rules, "But what are you doing here?"

Miranda's face clearly conveyed that she could be wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted. She unpursed her lips long enough to ask, "Where is the Book?" Her voice was full of impatience.

Before Andy could answer, the hall lit up and she could hear footsteps. "Eric is bringing it now."

By the time Eric stepped foot into the outer office, Miranda had one hand on her hip and her foot looked as if it was itching to tap. He spotted her right away and almost tossed the Book at her in his attempt to get away without being fired for having the Book ready two hours late. Andy watched as Miranda rolled her eyes at the man's squeak. He walked as fast as he could without running down the hall and out of sight.

Andy's attention was back on the door that should have been closed with her and her boss inside. _How could it have been a dream? It felt, tasted, smelled so real…_

The Lily-voice gave an answer she didn't like. _Well, when you want something bad—_

Andy cut it off with a sharp, _Shut up!_

When she turned back to her boss, Miranda was eyeing her with slight curiosity, one eyebrow raised.

"Is there something I can do to—for you, Miranda?" Andy was praying the blush wasn't as bright as it felt.

Miranda's head, again, tilted to the side. "I'd prefer you didn't drown your desk in drool. Go home." Before Andy could understand, let alone reply, Miranda was stalking past her and into her office.

Andy stood there, watching the lights come on, wondering why Miranda had kept her coat and purse when Miranda suddenly came back into view. Standing in the doorway, she took in her assistant's appearance. "Go home."

"Yes, Miranda." Andy made her way to the closet to gather her things, already planning how she would relieve her tension. She had bitten her lip a couple of times—that should have been a better indication than a pinch, right? Not that it mattered. Not now.

As Andy made her way to the door, she felt Miranda's eyes on her, boring into her skin. It pulled her to a stop and she turned around. Her eyes found Miranda's fairly quickly. The older woman was standing in the doorway of her office, one hand on the door and the other tugging at her necklace. The way she was looking at Andy made the younger woman's blood heat with desire. Andy felt her eyebrow slide up her forehead.

Miranda answered with a wry smile before she stepped back and closed her office door.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from emeraldorchids: Andrea walks into Miranda's office unannounced and catches the editor at her desk with her hand between her legs.


End file.
